A Twist in the Tale
by Tutankhamunfreak
Summary: The legend of the Founders is well known. That Salazar left the school, leaving the Chamber of Secrets as his legacy is fact. But what is the truth behind this legend? The truth may be more horrifying than anyone imagined and at the centre, a mysterious warlock by the name of Myrddin... T for dark content. Part 3 of 3 uploaded. NOW COMPLETE
1. Part I

**Before anyone starts to complain, I have no time to do a sequel at the moment. There might be one when I have time to post but that might not be for a while. I have to be motivated and have lots of time to write before anything can be updated. Right, now that's over with we can move on.**

**Weirdly enough, this is another crossover that is not run of the mill crossover. There are elements that can be found elsewhere but if you don't like the route where this is going please don't flame me. I actually rather like this arc, even if it will only end up being a two/three shot in the end (yes the second and possible third part will most likely be longer. Hence the need for more time). If you do like it please leave a lovely review or even if you don't, constructive criticism. We all need a good dose of both in the world.**

**By the way if you were wondering why the rating changed, I was judged on a typo that stated this was K rather than K+ and the site wouldn't save the + symbol onto the summary. So, in order to appease this apparent fault of nature when you could just look at the actual rating below it, I changed the rating. Please now judge on the actual story rather than my typos (unless they are in the narrative. I don't like incentive to become snarky).**

**Thanks and enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter or Merlin I would be in paradise. But sadly, I am neither the BBC or JK Rowling.**

* * *

It was dark when they came for him. He was usually in bed, asleep, but something had kept him up. The Old Religion called out in anguish and he could feel the pain of those dragged out to bonfires, screaming in terror. Wizard had turned on Warlock and Witch on Fey as the Latin wizards attempted to stomp out all those who still practised the Ancient Art. And finally, they came for him.

He would have left hours beforehand had it not been for the fact that Aithusa decided that tonight was the night to lay her eggs. She must have been sitting on them for a while but he had not wanted to pressure her into laying them early. Nature would always take its course eventually. He did not even realise that they were there, so caught up in the moment and shared happiness with that of his kin, one of the few left who remembered a time out of hiding that they managed to ambush him. A flash of scarlet was the only warning, all the more painful for its shared colour with that of Camelot. It was a short scuffle where they incapacitated him before chaining Aithusa and dragging the pair of them underground. He did not know what for and he never saw most of his captors again.

The chains they left him in had been made years before, designed during a time when the High Priests and Priestesses had been at their most powerful for criminals amongst their own. The goblins did not know what magic imbued them, did not know the pain they put him in as they brought meals twice a day. Water dripping from above was the only drink available and there was nothing but the darkness and the shrieks of Aithusa, calling for her lost eggs. They were still there, unharmed. They would be hatched when the Latin wizards called for them- after all, there was no point in executing the last true dragons left in the world too soon. They would make the best guards for thousands of years to come, slaughtered when they were too old for any use at all.

It took over a week for him to receive a visitor. It was not the man he was expecting. Green and silver robes, a thin pointed face and long dark hair- he did not recognise him as one of his captors but the Old Religion whispered that this was one of them. However, his memory of that night was still hazy due to the fact that he had been unconscious for most of it- and what would his friends of old have said if they knew that? But this man was not here to gloat. In fact, the man did not speak a word, instead stared at him in a kind of fascination. He decided to speak.

"Why?" It was the only word he could conjure up, mourning as he was for his losses all those years ago, mourning for those recently burned and mourning for those who awaited death. His visitor flinched as if struck by his words.

"The world is changing. Your people refused to change with it." It was a statement, a fact really, but it still hurt. He hung his head, allowing a tear to track its way down his face.

"My people have persevered through even hell itself but if you leave me here, I fear you will bring the end to what Uther Pendragon failed to do," he murmured. The man did not react physically this time other than the wave a thin stick of wood and conjure up a chair. He curled his lip slightly at the use of the wand (_what was the point to them anyway? Could these people really not tap into their own magical cores by themselves?_) but said nothing. Sitting, the man took a deep breath before speaking.

"My colleagues do not know that you are here yet. I was charged with keeping you in a safe place where you will not cause trouble. They want you kept alive to hatch the eggs and protect their wealth for eternity." A beat of silence; the man's face was blank. "I do not agree with this." He raised an eyebrow, wondering why this man was helping him in a strange and roundabout way, but he still said nothing. If his visitor had something to say then he would say it eventually.

They stared at each for a long moment and he could feel the man trying to pry past the wards around his mind. He found the sly prodding interesting even if there was no chance that he would get past his barriers. The man eventually gave up, choosing to let the silence continue. Even this in the end was too much for him.

"You are strangely quiet for one who has just witnessed the near total destruction of your race." It was a statement rather than a question but he didn't mind that. It meant that this man had a brain in his head.

"What is there that I can do now? You have flushed them out of their homes but the balance must return eventually. It always will." He paused to let the point sink in. No matter what they did now, no matter how much they suppressed her, the Triple Goddess would have her revenge. And she would do it when they were least expecting it, taking something precious to them and stealing it from right under their nose. The man pursed his lips as if he too knew this fact but could find no way to convince the others.

"You are not the only one to have lost people you know," the man tried again, taking a different route. He raised an eyebrow, wondering what he was going to attempt next. "I have seen thousands of children with magic both of new and old. Those who are born to parents of normal blood do not react well." Another pause and he looked sad. "I have told my colleagues that for their safety and the safety of the other students only two paths can be taken: these children must leave their families or leave the school. I cannot take them if they are to be a danger to the other students." The man closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "My colleagues do not agree."

"You live in a dangerous time and children are often influenced by their parents. Perhaps if you tried to make them understand your world and likewise your own children theirs, you might find yourself getting along a lot better," he said contemptuously. It wasn't _his_ fault these people didn't know how to get along with one another. They should work it out between themselves, not try and barter for advice from him. The man's mouth twitched as if he were trying not to smile.

"I had heard that you had a sharp tongue and a sense of humour. I didn't realise that they could go together." Meaning that he had been underestimated. He wondered if this man knew his true name or just the one he was using at the moment. Perhaps it was time to find out.

"You have not given me your name. I cannot continue to call you the Emerald wizard, no matter how good that sounds," he said and this time the man did smile. One would have thought that his face would be a cruel one if he had had cruel intentions but somehow he managed to smile in a way that made him look friendly rather than fiendish.

"My name is Salazar Slytherin. My colleagues go by the names of Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff and Godric Gryffindor if you would like to know." He couldn't help the snort of laughter.

"Oh really?" he squeaked, trying not to laugh out loud. "And what is your school called? Pig spots?"

"Hogwarts," the man- Salazar- said stiffly, looking somewhat put out that he was laughing at their names. And just a little bit offended. He really couldn't help the sniggers that his suspicions were confirmed. "And you," Salazar snapped, cutting through his giggles, "you are an enigma that I cannot solve Myrddin." He raised an eyebrow. So they only knew his false identity? Well, it paid to pretend to be nothing more than a skilled physician these days, even if some people were suspicious that he was so young.

"Well, I do try," Myrddin said, grinning and then winced as he tried to shift into a more comfortable position. Salazar merely watched as he twitched at the jabbing pains the chains forced through his body as he moved to gain some feeling in his legs. When he was finally able to settle once more and face Salazar, the man was standing, the chair gone.

"I will return. In the mean-time I think it would do you some good to rest. Those spells must have hit harder than I thought." And with that he was gone, disappearing with a loud _crack_.

_So he's one of the Founders of Hogwarts_ Myrddin thought, laying down and closing his eyes, hoping that sleep would take him to save him from the pain of the chains. _He must have the most sense out of all of them to be cautious of those from non-magical families. Perhaps in time I should tell him that no amount of rest will save me from the damage that these chains have done._

* * *

Salazar returned many times over the passing few years and his fears over the non-magical children intensified with each visit. Myrddin knew that this was the school's greatest danger. Not from the egotistical new wizards who were so proud to have married into other magical families or those who were excited that they were now practically a separate nation. No, the real danger would come from those who did not understand that they had to leave their ordinary world behind them if they wished to live or those who held on tightly to their prejudiced parents beliefs and attempted to end the school from within.

Eventually the time came when Salazar had had enough of the other Founders. It was the only time that Myrddin was ever allowed to leave the cave that he had been sentenced to live in. The chains were not removed and Salazar barely seemed to notice that Myrddin had to stop and rest every so often as the pain threatened to overcome him.

_Damn their ignorance_ Myrddin cursed under his breath every time Salazar urged him forwards. He couldn't keep this up much longer. If he had been anyone else they would have killed him but the Goddess had plans for him and plans for Salazar, plans that she was already putting in place to exact her revenge. A revenge that she was sure to make Myrddin live to see, even if he only just barely held onto life. When they finally reached Hogwarts, Myrddin was allowed to rest, if only so he could please Salazar with gawping at the magnificence of it. Or at least, that was what Salazar intended. In all honesty, he had seen far grander castles and Camelot would eclipse anything that these wizards could dream up.

"What do you think? We built it to protect our children and to teach our people how to blend in without the Muggles finding out that we exist." Myrddin stared at him.

"_What_ did you say?" Salazar blinked at the outraged tone of Myrddin's voice. "You start calling people names, even outside of their hearing, and you'll only allow the crisis to get worse. And as to what I _think_ about your castle…" He paused to listen to the whispering of the Old Religion in his ear, a small smile on his face. "I think that your castle will be brought to its knees by the descendants of you and your adversary, Gryffindor." Salazar looked taken aback.

"Hardly my descendants," he said after a moment. "You forget, I have no children. They were killed in the war between the magical and M- Non-Magical community. Probably those of my sister who hates them far more than I."

"I have no doubt," Myrddin said as they continued on, watching Salazar closely. The Old Religion was still whispering, words of warning and caution in his ear but not for him. "You are sick." Salazar did not react or even comment. He simply sighed, coughed into a fist and continued. Myrddin said nothing more about it. They were both sure that Salazar would not live much longer.

They eventually came to a great lake and stopped.

"This is as far as I can go before the others realise I have returned. There is something I need you to do. Beneath this lake there is a cavern that I was trying to turn into a duelling ring for my snakes but now I have something else in mind." He held out an arm for Myrddin to take and, after eyeing it with distrust a moment, he did. They disappeared with a _crack_ before reappearing in a chamber that was cool but damp and seemed to seep in water from the lake above. It would have been eerie if Myrddin had not been living in a cave these past twenty years. It would have been perfect for wizard duelling too- a large empty space with plenty of room for partners to be blasted back without injuring themselves on an inconvenient stalagmite.

"What do you want me to do?" Myrddin asked, willing to do a favour for an old acquaintance. He wouldn't go so far as to call Salazar a friend, but he did trust the man far more than the rest of his people. He had even managed to prevent the killing off of the Old Religion entirely, smuggling a few choice creatures into his forest and taking in a few Druids onto his private estate when the others weren't looking. Cunning and ambition were Salazar's traits, although Myrddin wouldn't have said that they were necessarily a bad thing.

"I need you to turn this into a chamber. These stalactites must be turned into pillars…" Myrddin did as asked and looked interestedly at the results. It had more of a feel of a throne room now rather than an empty cavern. A long colonnade had been formed down the centre, bordered by pillars twined with snakes, natural emeralds that could be found within the stone pulled up to form their eyes. A statue of Salazar himself stood at one end, proud and tall but plain. A little like the man himself. The doors to the room had also been re-crafted, with another design of writhing snakes glittering with more emeralds. Salazar nodded in satisfaction, clearly happy with his work.

"Thank you. I can handle the sealing off of this room," he said quietly and Myrddin noted a hint of sadness.

"What do you plan to do with it?"

"I plan to hide a basilisk inside. If ever the time comes, then one of my sister's children or another child with the ability to talk to snakes feels the need to purge the school of those who would destroy it from within, all they need do is come down here and release the beast upon them." Myrddin raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Extreme, don't you think?" he said conversationally but he could see what the years had done to this man. His eyes were sunken into his head and his hair hung limply, grey with stress more than age. And there was pain and sadness in those eyes of his. Nowhere near the kind that Myrddin knew was held within his own, but enough to know that this man had suffered as no one should. The war had not been kind to him. Not after the loss of his children, especially the youngest. She had been only five… but the war did not care for the age of children or the grief it left behind.

"I will do whatever it takes to protect this school," Salazar stated, his eyes steely against memories forever burned within his mind. "Remember that."

* * *

After Salazar's passing it was as if the world had forgotten that he had ever existed. The chains sapped his strength and so the goblins were forced to feed him when he no longer could. One brought him the scrying crystal he had kept from the Crystal Cave and placed it in front of his face. Myrddin kept his eyes closed for days at a time so he would not have to watch the suffering of the people of his land. His home had long since disappeared, his friends lives were twisted as was that of Salazar Slytherin. No one else seemed to have known the same man that Myrddin had and his name went down in history as one of the most feared and hated wizards of all time. Myrddin managed to get the strength up to push the crystal a little further away before it gave out entirely.

The years passed slowly and he was left to his thoughts. One day they brought one of Aithusa's eggs before him but he was so weak that he could not speak to name the dragon. They released him and the resulting flow of magic, so much stronger than it ever had been before that it was almost painful, sent him into a deep sleep that they could not rouse him from. When he came to, he only had enough time to name the dragon before the chains were forced back on but now he had something else to do.

Tælfon was as playful as Myrddin imagined his mother had been- so much so that he became such an annoyance to one who wished to be left alone for a while. But Myrddin did not want to waste the opportunity he had been given- a blessing really, he had thought that he was going mad for a while- and so cherished the years in which he was able to raise him before he too was dragged off a long fifty years later. By then he had matured enough that, if ever they wished, he could mate with one of their own dragons, evolved from the wyverns. Myrddin could have sneered at that but the sapping power of the chains had overcome him again and soon, he was back in the same predicament he had been in before Tælfon's birth.

They left him alone longer this time. It was only when, nearly two hundred years later, when he had tried to scream at the hellish depiction of a man in the scrying crystal did they bring him the second egg. He truly did scream when the cuffs were removed, the wave of magic was so strong. It was no longer his imagination- the magic of the world had faded so fast that he was simply carrying most of it within himself and had he been entirely human, he would have been killed instantly. But he had been born with the ability to hold this much magic and more, the very fabric of his soul being constructed of it, that while it hurt more than anything he had experienced before, he did not die. The Goddess had use for him yet.

Anthuil was similar to her brother in the fact that she was just as playful in her early years but, unlike Tælfon, she never grew out of her curiosity for trouble. She would try to fly out and see the carts that took people around the wizarding bank that had expanded around them and Myrddin would be forced to call her back. The cuffs were draining his strength faster than the previous times before and he didn't have the energy to stop her. He winced at the deaths of two people he did not know, but could feel as their deaths began the spiralling revenge the Goddess had planned. But this was only the beginning to a long and bloody end, where she would make the wizards feel the pain they had caused her over the years. And Myrddin could only agree.

He watched and waited as the thing that called itself Voldemort returned. _There is Silena's descendant_ Myrddin thought, looking at the twisted _thing_ in the crystal. _Running around claiming to be directly related the Salazar even though no one seems to have recorded that all his children died without bearing him any grandchildren. And there is his nemesis and partner, Harry Potter. They will destroy the school even if not by design._

And that was exactly what happened some four years later. Myrddin could have wept when Harry and his accomplices released Aithusa but not him. They had saved a fifteen hundred year old dragon mistress without releasing her master and so would have to bear the consequences, if ever they realised that she would not leave the bank alone without her babies. Tælfon was quite grown up with a temper to match. Anthuil cried out every time her mother lashed at the Alley and the goblins returned with the last egg.

"Hatch this and we will let you go," they said. Myrddin eyed them with disgust, thinking over everything they had done to him the past few hundred years. But who was he to deny them another dragon?

"_Rihtw__í__se," _he growled, resisting the urge to smile. She would be perfect for the coming months as the wizarding world fell apart. Justice would fall upon them and it would be his hand that dealt it.


	2. Part II

**Thank you to all those people who left lovely reviews and thank you to Conchamp1998 for inspiring me to finsih up the last 1,000 words to this. Seriously it was just sitting on my computer, nearly finished, and out of pure laziness and partly uninspired that it wasn't finished. I don't really have any other excuses.**

**Other than that, I hope you like part II. If i think part III is going to be too long you may even be lucky enough to get a part IV. Or and epilogue but this is only a mini-series and not a multi-chapter fic. Sorry.**

**Please leave a review later, they really do help me write at the mo!**

* * *

When Arthur awoke, it was to find himself lying on grass beside a lake. Cool water lapped gently at the banks as he looked around, trying to get his bearings. How had he managed to get here? The last place he remembered being was a hill leading to the Lake of Avalon, staring at the island in the middle of it and thinking that they had been so close and yet so far from achieving their goal. Except he wasn't quite sure what that goal had been.

The place he was in now was very different. The lake spread out as far as he could see on his right but to his left towered a castle. It was not as impressive as the citadel in Camelot, but for a lone castle with no surrounding village, it seemed to have done pretty well for itself even if it was currently looking a little worse for wear. Smoke drifted up from the roof of one tower and the stonework was crumbling in various places as if whole areas had been smashed in or blasted apart. _Only magic could have done that much damage in such a short time_ Arthur thought as he gingerly got to his feet. His chest hurt, almost as if he had broken his ribs. For a moment that was what he thought he _had_ done, until the fog lifted from his mind.

_Not broken ribs_, he thought. _A sword thrust. I was wounded and there was a piece of sword not even Merlin could get out… We were going to the Lake of Avalon to have the Sidhe remove it._ But they had never made it or, if Merlin had somehow miraculously carried him the remaining three miles, he would have been long gone. It had been a losing battle right from the start, Arthur remembered that. He had only had three days and with the delay of Morgana and the loss of the horses, he just hadn't been able to manage it, no matter how determined both he and Merlin had been.

He couldn't imagine the devastation of his closest friend.

_But if I did die_ Arthur thought, clutching at his side and sitting back on the bank again to think things over, _how did I get here? And how am I alive again with nothing more to show for it other than bruised ribs_? A mystery that surely Merlin would have been able to tell him, if only he was here. _I suppose that if I am alive, that probably means so much time has gone by that Merlin must either be really old or dead._ Arthur didn't know how long sorcerers lived for, but even the greatest sorcerer in the world would have to die at some point. Even Morgana had aged, even if not by much and that witch, Nimueh, must have aged, most likely slower than his father. But they had still aged and would eventually have died if a sword hadn't finished them off (at least Morgana had. Who knew how Nimueh had met her end?)

Deciding that nothing could be accomplished by sitting on a riverbank and doing nothing, Arthur hauled himself back onto his feet and, checking to make sure that his sword was still attached to his sword-belt, began to make his slow ascent to the castle.

Arthur noticed the stares straight away, even if he couldn't quite believe where they were coming from. The portraits in Camelot had never moved and neither had the suits of armour, although Arthur preferred fighting in chainmail and leather. It was lighter and easier to move in, as well as less stuffy. He only fought in full plated armour on a jousting field which wasn't very often, especially after becoming king. Everyone knew that no self-respecting knight would clank onto a battlefield wearing all of that if he wished to be able to fight and _live_. _Obviously no one told that to the owners of the self-walking armour_ Arthur thought wryly, trying to take his mind off of the fact that everything was following him.

He would probably never have found anyone if it wasn't for the fact that he accidently stepped on the cat's tail. It yowled at him, trying to claw his shins in revenge, although luckily his boots had been designed to survive battles and horses feet and so this had little effect. What it did do was bring a rather oddly dressed man running to the scene, who stopped at the sight of Arthur. He wondered if he looked that bad.

"What have you done to Mrs Norris?" the man shouted, crouching down to pick up the cat, which was still hissing at him. "And who are you?"

"My name is Arthur Pendragon," Arthur said, hoping that he could find out where he was without causing any more trouble. He didn't think he would be able to fight anybody, the state he was in let alone a sorcerer. "I wish to speak to the lord or lady of this castle." The man stared at him once again, this time with suspicion. He then seemed to decide that whatever was going on would be better discussed with someone else and so, beckoning for Arthur to follow, he set off up the corridor. Arthur followed, trying to gauge where he might be by looking out of the window. It was very green and craggy, so somewhere north, but nowhere Arthur had been before.

The man led him to where a gargoyle stood and said in a sulky manner, "Whiskers." The gargoyle leapt aside to reveal a spiralling stone staircase, which the man hurried up immediately. Surprised and not the least bit wary (after all the only magic that Arthur had witnessed that hadn't been used against him had been on those last few days with Merlin), Arthur followed at a much slower pace. He heard the gargoyle jump back into place behind him. The door at the top of the stairs was already open and he could hear a woman's voice floating out of it.

"Argus, I am well aware that the castle is in need of repairs. Kingsley is sending Ministry people to help next week so that everything will be back to normal for next year," the woman snapped and Arthur caught sight of her: a greying middle-aged woman, reaching the end of her prime and dressed in emerald robes, the likes of which Arthur had only ever seen on Druid Elders and of a much poorer quality. The man was shifting from foot to foot looking uncomfortable.

"I know Professor McGonagall but I found this," Arthur found himself suddenly tugged into the room and scowled at the man, "lurking around the first floor corridors. He _claims_ to be Arthur Pendragon." There was a sneer in the man's face that told Arthur he wasn't believed in the slightest. The woman stared at him for a moment.

"Go and call Kingsley. It could be a trick that the last of the Death Eaters are trying," the woman ordered, her shrewd eyes taking in Arthur's cape, which still had dirt encrusted on the bottom from the battle at Camlann and his armour still splattered in blood. Some of which Arthur knew was probably his own. _And yet, the wound is gone_, he thought just as the woman said, "Bewitching Muggles, what next!"

"Excuse me!" Arthur said, alarmed. "I am Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot! I will not be spoken to in such a way." The woman blinked at him in the way cats did when they didn't understand what had just been said to them- that or when they were about to ignore exactly what you had just said to them. _Which is why I prefer the hunting dogs rather than the kitchen cats_.

"Don't worry; Argus has gone to fetch help. Everything will be alright soon," the woman said soothingly before muttering, "Probably a Confundus charm."

"_What_ are you going on about? What is this place? And where is Merlin?" Arthur didn't know why he asked, but the last question just slipped out. _Where was_ the closest person he could call a brother? Merlin had only ever been absent a few times- and Arthur had always doubted that the so-called tavern trips were truly real- but he never failed to appear with answers- some even more ludicrous than the last. But Arthur could forgive him for that once he explained the real reasons. If he ever could.

"This is Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry and I am the Headmistress Professor McGonagall. As to where Merlin is I cannot say. The man disappeared at the end of King Arthur's reign." She paused a moment before continuing slyly, "But surely you know this Your Highness."

Arthur scowled at her sarcasm. It wasn't helping him or her for them to constantly argue- or not in her case- over whether or not he was really who he said he was. He had to know what had become of Camelot and Guinevere. But most of all, something told him the person in most need of his help was Merlin and that his greatest friend was in danger.

"How long has it been since Camelot fell?" This was important. If he knew that then he might know what to look for. And hopefully not a grave.

"Over a thousand years ago." The woman said this in a blunt manner, already returning to her paperwork as Arthur felt as if the ground had suddenly slipped out from under him. _Over a thousand years_… he was stuck over a thousand years in the future, cut adrift from everyone and everything he knew. Camelot could not have survived all this time, even if the castle still stood without its citizens. And now he was certain that Merlin had to be dead. Not even Nimueh could have survived for a thousand years. He found himself sitting on the ground by the fire when the door opened once more to reveal a man dressed in blue robes. He was holding a thin stick in his right hand and seemed startled to find him on the floor.

"Who is this?" the man asked as Arthur stared blankly at him, not sure how he had gotten to the floor in the first place. There was an empty well in his heart where he had kept all his emotions. The love he felt for Gwen, the friendship he had with his knights, his amused exasperation at Gwaine and the bond he had held with Merlin. At some point there would be grief. At some point he would probably rage and shout and scream for his lost family, but right now there was nothing but a shocked disbelief that this had ever happened. That he was stuck out of time in a world that he had never imagined to exist.

"A Muggle. I think the left over Death Eaters have Confounded him, since he seems to believe that he's King Arthur." The woman had barely looked up from her desk; seemingly too busy scribbling away to someone. The man inclined his head in curiosity for a moment before settling down next to Arthur.

"Can you tell me your name?" he asked gently.

"Arthur… Arthur Pendragon." He paused a moment, not bothering to look up to see pitying disbelief. "I know you won't believe me. You'll try and tell me that I'm bewitched or something." This whole situation reminded him of the many arguments he had had with his father, especially when he had been about to execute Gwen on the suspicion that she had enchanted him to get him to give up the throne. Just what had happened to Dragoon after his mad dash out of Camelot after his father's murder, Arthur didn't know and he doubted he ever would.

"It does sound rather odd," the man agreed, "but I have heard some rather strange stories in my time. Do you have any proof?" For a moment, Arthur would have said no. He had nothing on him that would show that he was a king. No crown, no signet ring, even his armour looked more like that of a common knight since it was yet to be cleaned and polished. But there was something that he had that was his and his alone. He pulled Excalibur from the sheath at his side and held it out. The man seemed surprised, almost awed as he reached out to touch it but something made Arthur curl his fingers over the blade, preventing the man from taking it. "Where did you find this?"

"I pulled it from a stone in the forest of Essetir before taking back my kingdom from Mor… from a sorceress." No need for this man to know that his sister had been the one to take Camelot. Neither did he need to know that Arthur suspected that Merlin had something to do with helping him pull the sword since he had felt how firmly stuck it had been in the stone when he had first attempted to pull it out, nervous and scared, crushed by the weight of his failure and the pressure of what returning would mean. But somehow, Merlin had gotten him to believe again.

He met the man's gaze over the sword, staring into his eyes and found that this man was doing a similar tactic to his own. It was something he had learnt as a boy. The eyes were the doors to the soul; you could hide nothing in them. It had always frustrated Arthur to no end that the only person who could avoid this gaze entirely was Merlin, who seemed equally skilled at the talent, and so it seemed was this man.

"I am Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic. If I may, I would like to test your story for the truth," the man said after a moment's silence. Arthur, used to having to bury grief, pushed his feelings about Camelot away and nodded.

"If that is what you wish to be done to ensure you know that what I speak is the truth." He stood, ignoring the offer of a hand, sliding Excalibur back into its place at his side. Kingsley turned to the woman at the desk, who was staring at them over the top of her glasses inquisitively.

"Minerva, you don't happen to have any veritaserum about do you? I did not bring any of my own." The woman placed her quill down on the desk and frowned.

"Not that I know of. There may be some left in storage in Severus' old rooms…" she trailed off a moment, her gaze going to a small portrait of a hooked nose man in the corner, the only painting in the room that didn't move. Kingsley followed her gaze and nodded, gesturing for Arthur to follow him out of the room. Arthur stared at the picture a moment longer, looking at the sallow skin and deep dark eyes and wondered why the man reminded him of Mordred in his grief over Cara, before he turned and followed the man out of the room.

* * *

Harry was at the Burrow when it happened. He and Ginny had been sitting on the grass outside, broomsticks beside them after a good game of Quidditch with the rest of the Weasley's, when Hermione came rushing out of the house, her face white in shock. She was holding a copy of the Daily Prophet in her hands which was sporting a picture of what Harry could only say looked like a black and white explosion.

"Harry…" Hermione was gasping for breath, her face pale. "Look at this." She thrust the paper into his hands and Harry stared at the headline.

_CARNAGE AT GRINGOTTS AS DRAGONS ESCAPE_

"Oh Merlin," Ginny gasped. "What now?" They had known that there was trouble in Diagon Alley after the news that the dragon he, Ron and Hermione had freed had continued its attack on Gringotts, no matter how many dragon tamers they sent. Charlie had been in and out of the house for the past few weeks but even he was stumped as to how the dragon was evading them and yet still able to aim it attacks for the wizarding bank. Harry shook his head as he began to read through the article.

_After the last three weeks of continual attacks by the first escaped dragon, it has now been revealed that no less that three more dragons have escaped from the bank last night. The release came after a crushing explosion caused within the bank itself, although no goblin has yet to identify exactly where the blast came from._

"_The only information we are able to give at this point is that they would have needed magical help," a goblin stressed. "All dragons within our keep are secured and could not escape on their own. The dragon that was released two months ago was aided by three vigilantes and perhaps you could try asking them if they helped to release these."_

_It is unknown who these three are and the Ministry refuses to give out information regarding what was stolen. We are reassured however, that two of the three escaped last night are very young, and could not hope to fend for themselves. Ministry workers have claimed that they will be rounded up within the week and the dragons dealt with accordingly._

"I don't like that sound of this. Who caused the explosion to release them?" Harry asked, noting that the paper had rather obviously left their names out of the article. It was clear that they were sore over the fact that Kingsley refused to give out details as to why Ron, Harry and Hermione had been forced to enter the bank and steal the sword of Gryffindor.

"No one knows. Nobody died but there were some injured goblins," Hermione said as Ron appeared behind her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and joined Harry on the grass.

"Mum's just finished flooing Charlie. Apparently no one knows what happened last night but some witch reported seeing the dragons flying off with a captive." He frowned then, before carrying on, "Mind you, this witch had just left the Leaky Cauldron and all she saw through a sherry haze was the four dragons flying off. The Ministry don't believe her but they also say they don't believe the goblins either."

"Why not?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"Bill's been working with them and he and Charlie agree that there's something different about these dragons. Charlie's had a good look at the one we released and he said that it's no breed of dragon he's ever seen before. The three that escaped last night are the same and Bill was telling mum this morning that the goblins are looking shifty." Ron fell quiet for moment, his face troubled. "But more than that, he says they're scared. And he doesn't think it's about the dragons."

"If they've been breeding new dragons, they're probably scared of being punished. I mean look at Hagrid and the Blast Ended Skrewts," Harry pointed out but Ron shook his head.

"They're not crossbreeds. If that was the case, they wouldn't be able to lay eggs and the goblins have been explaining that the three that escaped were hatched from eggs taken from the dragon we released." Hermione gasped in horror.

"No wonder the dragon kept attacking Gringotts! She was trying to get her babies back!" Harry frowned. He agreed with Hermione but something just didn't seem right about the whole affair. Why would Gringotts have a breed of dragon no one had ever seen before? And what exactly were they trying to hide?

"It doesn't make sense. Why go to the trouble of keeping a breed of dragon that no one has heard before with the risk that one of them will attack you if you hurt their babies? And it isn't like they were treating her any better than an animal in the first place," Harry said, noticing that Ron seemed equally troubled by this idea.

"I don't know. But until Charlie can tell us what is going on I don't think we'll ever know. Diagon Alley has been shut until they have the situation under control."

* * *

Kingsley didn't know what to make of the young man before him. He could only have been in his late twenties, early thirties, clearly a Muggle of some kind. He was dressed like one who had been to a renaissance fare, in blood splattered armour and a red cape that was filthy. However, the sword emanated enough magic that he was sure that, gotten close enough, even Filch would have been able to sense. The blood too looked real, and he had seen enough blood to know that you could never replicate it, only substitute it and he didn't seem the kind to kill off animals for the sake of stealing their blood.

He followed quietly behind him, glancing around at the paintings and statues as if wary that they might jump out and hurt him at any moment. Kingsley didn't want to point out that they wouldn't unless ordered to do so since he didn't know whether or not the man was violent and there was still the possibility that this _was_ King Arthur and they would be making a great mistake in annoying him. Even so, it was more likely that the man had simply been Confounded and left for them to find by the Death Eaters. Give it another couple of days and they would probably send them some Knights of the Round Table and a Queen Guinevere.

"This is it," Kingsley said as they reached the old Potions Master's office. Inside was the usual assortment of pickled animal and magical specimens, all of which he was sure had been placed in here as a deterrent for the students to ever want detention. After all, Severus was never cruel, just extremely unsociable to the point that he had almost isolated himself from his peers. And with the number of secrets the man kept, it wasn't surprising. "Stay here," he ordered as he left to the store cupboard next door. Inside was the veritaserum that he had been looking for, although there was only enough left for a single interrogation. _We'll just have to make this last_ he thought. It would soon be clear whether or not he was telling the truths of someone else.

He returned to the office and poured the remnants of the potion into a cup of water which he handed to the man. The man looked at the cup with great suspicion, but Kingsley watched in surprise as he screwed up his face and gulped the whole lot down in one. He then made a face.

"Gah, tastes like Gaius' potions," the man stated looking disgusted. Clearly whatever this Gaius had given him had been just as foul tasting. Kingsley simply took the cup back and gestured for him to sit as he settled himself into Severus' old chair on the other side of the desk.

"What is your name?" Kingsley asked.

"Arthur Pendragon," the man answered at once.

"Your parents' names?"

"Uther Pendragon and Ygraine."

"Any siblings?" Here the man paused, not as if he were thinking about it, but as if he was uncomfortable with the information he would be forced to give.

"A half- sister, Morgana." Kingsley nodded, expecting that.

"Your tutor?"

"Geoffrey." Kingsley blinked, surprised. As anyone would have expected, the correct answer to him would have been Merlin, but instead the man had given a different name. And yet, he was forced to tell the truth… perhaps a sign of the Confundus charm? Perhaps the person to have cast it had gotten a detail wrong and forgotten to correct themselves.

"And what did Geoffrey do other than as your tutor?"

"He was my father's Keeper of the Books. He kept the library in order and documented the censuses and trade through Camelot. He did the same for me when I came to the throne." Kingsley paused, curious. There was still no hesitation, no sign that this was information he was unsure about. The only sign so far had been answers that were different to the history that Kingsley knew. It was probably time to be a little more specific.

"And what was Merlin's job in the castle?" Arthur raised an eyebrow at that, looking slightly amused for some reason.

"_Mer_lin? Why do you want to know about _Mer_lin?" Kingsley blinked at the sudden change in tone. Up until now, Arthur had been serious but co-operative. Now, however, he seemed to have found something particularly funny in Kingsley's questions. "He was my manservant."

Kingsley couldn't help it. His mouth fell open at that statement. How could this man just brush off a question about the most powerful wizard in the world like he hadn't been anything special? Clearly he had to be Confounded. It was the only explanation for something like this. Arthur seemed slightly confused by Kingsley's reaction, but carried on looking at him with that same look of amusement, caught somewhere between laughing at Kingsley and nonplussed at his reaction.

"Is there some wrong?" he asked. "You wanted to know what Merlin did and I told you. He was my manservant and he was the worst manservant I ever had. He was late, he was lazy and he seemed to spend most of his time in the tavern or with Gaius. How I managed to get anything done I do not know."

Kingsley was about to answer that there was no way that _Merlin_ could ever have been a manservant, let alone useless and that this man _had_ to be Confounded, they were interrupted by McGonagall.

"Kingsley, Charlie Weasley is here. He wants to speak to this man," she said. Kingsley frowned.

"I haven't finished. Why does he want to speak to him specifically?"

"He thinks that his appearance and the release of the dragons from Gringotts might be connected," she said, sounding disapproving. "Apparently, one of your Ministry members stated that you had come here at my request of an intruder." Kingsley thought for a moment before sighing.

"It wouldn't hurt. He's still under the influence of the veritaserum," he said, rising from the table and heading around the table. Glancing quickly at the man he gestured for McGonagall to leave the office as she sent a patronus off to fetch Charlie. "I don't know what to think of him. Some of his answers are ludicrous but others are much more convincing."

"So a botched job of a Confundus Charm? Probably Mundungus Fletcher then, thinking it's funny," McGonagall sniffed but Kingsley shook his head.

"It is more complicated than that. This man… he doesn't display the normal signs of someone under a Confundus charm. He isn't confused or disorientated and neither are his answers hesitant or contradictory. They are simply… odd." McGonagall looked at him quizzically, as if wondering what on earth he meant so he elaborated. "He believes that Merlin was his manservant." He watched as her face went through the same shock he had felt a moment earlier. Before she could reply Charlie arrived.

"Hi!" he said and then looked at them curiously. "What are you doing out here? Is he really that strange?"

"A little bit," Kingsley said. "Come on, he's inside." Charlie shrugged and they entered the room. Arthur was still there, although he seemed to have gotten bored and was playing with a quill Severus must have left on the desk. He glanced up the moment that they walked in, giving Charlie a confused look.

"Who are you?" he asked, rather rudely. Charlie didn't seem to mind and dropped into the seat that Kingsley had just vacated.

"I'm Charlie Weasley. I was wondering what it was that you knew about dragons…"

* * *

Bill Weasley stood in the centre of the cave and whistled. He and Corbin Gudgeon had been investigating exactly how the dragons had been able to escape when Corbin had pointed out this opening to him. Unlike the other vaults within Gringotts, this one hadn't been sealed off in any way by a door, but by the look of the wall _something_ had been kept in here. Something big and powerful and strong enough to collapse an entire wall that had made the opening visible. For all they knew, the goblins could have been hiding this for years without telling the wizards. They could have been standing on something potentially lethal for decades and Bill wouldn't put it past the goblins to say that they had known that something on this scale would occur. For now though, he settled with looking around for clues as to how this was linked to the dragons.

The floor was filthy and all he could see, other than a constant steady drip off of a stalactite at the far end of the cave was some kind of littered egg shell and chains. _The eggshell must have come from the new-born_ he thought. _I'll wait for Charlie to get back and show them to him. He should be able to identify the type of dragon off of that. Now about these chains…_ He was surprised and disturbed to see that they were actually rather thin and rusty. That suggested that they had been there for a very long time, not something he wanted to think about. But they were not long enough to have contained any kind of beast and he found himself thinking back to the drunken witch's statement.

"I swear to you," the woman had slurred, "there was a man riding on that dragon's back! Call it the alcohol but I didn't imagine it, by Merlin's false teeth!" Perhaps they shouldn't have discredited her story after all.

"What do you think about those Bill?" Corbin asked as he stepped forward to stand by Bill. He sighed and stepped towards the chains, glancing around.

"I'm not sure. Whatever they held, I'm beginning to think that it had nothing to do with the dragons. They're not big enough." Carefully he picked the chains up from the ground, studying them. Someone had undone them but someone else had clearly despised them enough to attempt to destroy them. The cuffs were bent and twisted, some of the links broken. There were enough of them left to see that runes had been etched into the metal, but what they spelled out he wasn't sure. Ancient Runes had never been his thing.

"Hey Corbin, can you read this?" he asked, handing one of the cuffs to Gudgeon. His partner and friend carefully took the cuff, studied it a moment and frowned.

"It's some kind of suppressant spell. I've only ever see them on the very early bindings for the witch burnings in the medieval era. They would prevent a witch or wizard from accessing their magic, pretty much making it impossible for them to escape. From what I've read, I know that it used to be a popular method for those following in the footsteps of Uther Pendragon and many Druids met their ends cuffed in these." He paused, fingering a certain rune. "But these… these were designed to hold something a heck of a lot stronger than a Druid."

"What's more powerful than a Druid?" Bill asked. His History of Magic was rusty, not that he had known much about it before considering he had barely been able to stay awake during Professor Binn's lessons, but he was pretty sure that the Druids were stressed as some of the very first wizards to start using wands, suggesting that they had once been powerful enough to use magic without them. Corbin shrugged, looking disturbed.

"I don't know. Whatever it is, its humanoid and it's been living down here with those dragons. I'd cast a dating charm on it to find out how old they are but I was rubbish at Charms in Hogwarts. Curse breaking's more my thing." He handed the cuff back as the rattle of an approaching cart was heard in the distance. "You try."

Shrugging, Bill took the cuff back and inspected it once again. He wondered what could have driven the people of the medieval era to think of something as drastic as this. What manner of creature made them lock it up beneath the most secure vaults of all time surrounded by dragons and dragon eggs. He raised his wand and was about to cast the charm when he was distracted by the arrival of Charlie and his unexpected guest. The young man was obviously uncomfortable (and dressed rather oddly but Bill wasn't one to judge) but he was scrutinising his surroundings as closely as any of his colleagues would have.

"Hey Charlie," he said as his brother walked the small incline towards him, avoiding the remains of the dragon egg as he did so. "Who's your friend?"

"We don't really know. He _claims_ to be King Arthur, but he just appeared at Hogwarts this morning," Charlie said, watching the young man closely as he began to move around, crouching over the eggshell bits. He picked up a piece, turning it over in his hand and frowning. "I brought him here because I thought it was a bit strange, someone appearing almost at the same time as a breakout in Gringotts." Bill nodded, remembering how he had thought at first that the news of something breaking _out_ of Gringotts was weird, let alone having this man turn up out of the blue in the middle of Hogwarts only a day or so after the event. He watched as the man studied the piece of eggshell for a moment longer before approaching him.

"Hi," he said as the man looked up. "Bill Weasley. We were wondering if you knew anything about what might have happened here?" He phrased the end to sound like a question so as not to offend the man as he eyed the outstretched hand for a moment before taking it. He then pulled himself to his feet and held up the eggshell.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked. There was something in his eyes, something that said he had a fair idea, but only that he wanted confirmation. Charlie was instantly by his side, taking the piece and studying it for a moment before shrugging.

"It's a piece of dragon eggshell, although for what kind of dragon I'm not sure. It's not in the typical shape for a dragon egg, which backs up the theory that the baby we saw yesterday was newly hatched." He paused and glanced at the eggshell once more. "Never seen anything like it if I'm honest."

"I have," the man said quietly. "Once. But the egg was destroyed, or so I was told and in _theory_ it was the last ever dragon egg." He mulled that over a moment and Bill got the distinct feeling that he was leaving something out. He then tossed the piece of eggshell over his shoulder, disregarding Charlie's noise of protest as the piece shattered into a million tiny other pieces, and strode over to the cuffs. "You had a sorcerer tied up here too." Bill blinked at that.

"How do you know?" he asked, joining him back at the rusting cuffs. The man knelt, picking up one and showing it to him.

"The runes. My father had a set, created specifically for containing sorcerers in the dungeons when I was a child. He only showed them to me whenever they were being put on but they prevented the wearer from accessing and using magic. My guess is that your prisoner was either a powerful sorcerer or a Dragonlord." Charlie snorted behind them and the man turned, raising an eyebrow.

"Sorry, it's just, Dragonlords are a legend. Extinct for hundreds of years."

"I know. I met the last one and he died eight years before me." He paused for a moment, brow furrowed. "Although I recall seeing another in the battle at Camlann…" he trailed off, eyes widening a moment and dropped the cuff on the floor, rising from his crouch and turning to the resident goblin down with them. It was looking a little shifty and suddenly distinctly uncomfortable with the attention it was receiving- more of a glare really- from the man.

"The sorcerer you had locked up here. What did he look like?" the man demanded, eyes hard. The goblin shifted, eyes darting from side to side.

"I don't know what you mean," it said, not looking at them. An uneasy feeling crept up on Bill as he watched the man take an aggressive step forward.

"Do not lie to me. I know the signs of imprisonment when I see them. Now describe him!" The goblin jumped and for the first time actually looked afraid, especially when the man drew the sword at his side which glinted dangerously in the dim light.

"I-I don't know who he was!" it squeaked as the man approached, sword hanging ready in one hand. "We were never told! Our ancestors may have known but they never passed it down. He was young, though, always young. A-And tall with black hair and big ears." The man looked angrier than ever. "A-And gold eyes, that's all I know I swear!" The man paused before turning on his heel and striding away, stomping through the eggshell as he went. Bill paused a moment before rounding on the goblin himself.

"Why didn't you tell us there was someone down here?" he snapped, raising his wand.

"We were sworn to secrecy by the Founders. None of them ever came again after making the cave." The goblin paused, then tilted its head a little. "None other than Slytherin." For a moment, Bill stood still. Then he and Corbin glanced at each other before racing out of the cave after their only suspect, each hoping they were wrong.

* * *

Arthur was fuming. How could they?! These were people who swore by Merlin's name and insisted on acting like he was some kind of god! And yet, after being in that cave and listening to that creature talk about his friend in such a way as to make even human life sound worthless made Arthur want to punch something. Hard.

Fortunately for the people around him, something distracted him. In fact, it was his name.

For a moment, he thought it was someone ahead of him, Kingsley or one of the other people in the entourage that had appeared outside the 'bank' as it had been called. He hadn't seen a dragon egg since the ill-fated trip after the thief to recover not only the dragon egg but also the stolen triskellion. But as he approached the entrance to the hall, he realised that they were all out of sight and far away from him. In fact, they were concentrating on something else, although all he caught as he passed were the words 'wards' and 'breaking up'. Clearly, they had bigger issues than a lost king.

_Arthur…_ There was definitely someone calling his name and now that he thought about it, they sounded familiar. He continued forwards, straight out of the doors of the bank and into the winding, dizzying insanity that was the magical street he had been taken to. There were still people milling about, but he couldn't see anyone who might be calling his name, or even paying any attention to him.

_Arthur!_ Again, his name was called and he set off. It seemed louder, more insistent, especially as, halfway down the street the sky above seemed to flicker and he was certain it had nothing to do with the weather. The people around him began to gather in groups, worried expressions on their faces and muttering amongst themselves. He followed the voice until he reached the archway leading into the bar and, in a moment of instinct, placed Excalibur against it to get the wall to turn into the archway so he could leave the street.

Once on the other side of the pub, in the even crazier world that was the future, the flicker seemed to come again. People surrounding him began to frown and point at the pub behind him and he turned, wondering what the problem was. It didn't look any different than it had before. No one was dead and the door was a door and not something weird, like a trick wall or something. Shrugging he turned and stared across the road at the person opposite.

_Hello again Arthur_… He grinned, stepping away from the alarmed families as Ministry wizards appeared out of nowhere in an attempt to fix the now non-existent wards and crossed the road. The man next to him smirked and ran a finger down the spine of the baby dragon perched like a cat over his shoulders.

"Took you long enough."


	3. Part III

**Hey guys, thanks so much for being so patient, I know its been a while. Sorry, I was caught up in Uni stuff and exams and now that the exam season is about to start, I thought that I would upload this before disappearing completely until July. That's not to say I won't be writing, but probably not Merlin/Harry Potter any time soon.**

**Also I'm afraid that this is the end for this fic. Please don't flame me if you don't like how it ends (or begins really, I was in a dark place) but I would like to say thank you for everyone who has reviewed and will review in the future if they want. I actually enjoyed writing this fic, as depressing as it is, so I hope that you have all enjoyed reading it. **

**Again, so sorry for the delay, but writer's block can be cruel.**

* * *

The past few months were carnage. Harry had never seen so much destruction, not even under Voldemort. People died, burned, tortured and many more indescribable things as the barriers around wizarding Britain faded into obscurity.

It hadn't been quite so drastic at first. When the barriers had first fallen, the Muggles had just laughed, thinking that it was some kind of joke. They swarmed into areas such as Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley, oohing and ahhing at what they presumed were new tourist attractions while the wizards watched uneasily. The Ministry urged any magical creatures to stay out of the public eye for now, or at least until they had the situation under control. The Muggles would probably have gone on believing this if it hadn't been for one Ministry worker' brilliant idea to try and modify some people's memory. That was when the chaos began. Suddenly, the magical world wasn't a joke anymore and Muggles were clamouring for the wizards and witches to declare themselves. Some formed groups with the intent of hunting down anyone suspected of magic.

Some grew even worse.

It hadn't been until just after Christmas, with the sightings of dragons that the real horror began. A group, calling itself the 'Defenders of Britain' had begun to emerge. It was filled with members of Parliament and Generals of the military. People began to join it and in the recent election under the Muggles, the leader of their political section gained power. And the world slipped and slid even further out of control right in front of Harry's eyes. Those who had just started to rebuild after the recent wizarding war were forced to flee their homes once again. They tried to erect new barriers, new wards to hide from the Muggles but they were no longer working. In fact, Harry had noticed that many of their spells were not working.

The Weasley's had just barely managed to escape before their house had been burnt down by a mob. A _legal _mob. Harry had watched with the others as everything they had started to build crumbled to ruins, clutching Ginny's hand tightly in his own as she sobbed against his chest. Her home, once again destroyed. They had travelled to a camp full of other witches and wizards suffering the same problems. It wasn't long until reports came in that even the Muggles were murdering their own kind if they were suspected of sorcery. And they could. The government had legalised all action against those of magic. Posters had appeared everywhere for the people to form a resistance against 'the monsters in our homes'. Muggle-borns would swing either of two ways: they would be forced to run from their own parents and siblings or they would join with them and force people out of hiding. It was hard to know who to trust anymore.

It didn't matter that there were some Muggles willing to help them. Some had formed themselves into small groups, those who had already believed in the Occult and had been thrilled on the discovery of magic. They campaigned against the new government, despite the dangers to themselves, dressing in robes and standing up in crowds to give speeches on how they should try to be peaceful. They called themselves the New Druids, determined to bring harmony to the people. And weirdly enough, they based their teachings upon Camelot.

Harry had noticed that a lot recently. The New Druids would preach about how there had been peace and harmony in Camelot until the non-magical folk had driven their neighbours away with smoke and fire as they did now. They encouraged the magical community to join them, to fight for their own rights. Some did, although many ran or retaliated with the same violence as the Muggles showed them. The carnage only grew and there was nothing that anybody could do about it.

It had been almost a year since the magical world had been revealed and it was about to get even weirder. Hermione, who had been even quieter since the news of the burning of her parents than usual, had approached him, a borrowed copy of the now irregularly printed _Daily Prophet_ clutched in her hands.

"I think you'll want to see this," she said quietly. They had been staying in a refugee camp with a group of New Druids. Most of the Weasley's had separated and only Ginny, Ron and Bill were with them now. Bill had stayed in the hopes of running into the man who had claimed to be King Arthur once again after he had disappeared the day the wards had disintegrated and the world seemed to end.

The newspaper would only print facts now, for once. This particular version seemed to have been through several hands, but Harry could just about make out the article and the painting depicted on the front. It wasn't moving and the source showed that in actuality it was a Muggle depiction of the Court of Camelot, discovered in the Great Hall of Winchester, buried under the famous Round Table.

_KING ARTHUR'S COURT RETURNED?_

_Reports are flooding in amongst the carnage of a group of individuals travelling with the New Druids that call themselves the Knights of the Round Table. Formed of only eight men, seven of which dressed in armour, they have rallied against the Defenders of Britain in a stunning display outside of Westminster, where the Muggle Parliament is held. The leader, known as Arthur Pendragon, gladly allowed us to interview him in front of Anthony Head, leader of the Defenders of Britain Party and current Prime Minister._

"_While we are here, we will not let anything happen to those innocent of any crime. Magical or not," Arthur declared. He named his knights as Sir Leon, Sir Percival, Sir Lancelot, Sir Gwaine, Sir Elyan and (controversially) Sir Mordred. The last member of their group he stated was called Merlin, although it is hard to tell whether this is a joke. The man in question refused to answer any of our questions involving him, nor would he state whether he had been a part of the magical community. What is clear, is that these people are a friend to us all._

_The new Knights of the Round Table have been spotted in several locations including Rochester, Glasgow, Birmingham, Lancaster and now London. When asked as to where they were going next, or even how they were able to move around the country so fast, Arthur would not say._

"_These are dangerous times, no matter how much we try to help. It is safer for all involved if that information is kept a secret." He did, however, say with a wink, "Although we will be visiting some old friends. My friend Merlin here has a few choice words for them." It seemed this was some kind of private joke to the group, but as to why the Prophet cannot claim to know._

_Here's to hoping that they mean to do as they say, and keep up hope._

The article ended there and Harry wondered why they even bothered with the ending. It was the same for every article. '_Keep up hope_" was the slogan that the Ministry had taken up before fleeing into obscurity. In times before leaflets and pamphlets had been delivered on how to keep safe, but as the Ministry had slowly disbanded as the new raids began, it seemed that they were left on their own. Harry read through the article one more time before handing it to Bill.

"Do you know what he meant by 'old friends'?" Harry asked as he skimmed the article. Bill carefully laid it aside, looking truly worried.

"I'm not sure. The last time I saw him he was angry and then he disappeared. It's possible that they made some enemies or met some who have not been as careful as they should but I don't know." He paused, glancing around. "Personally, I think it means something different entirely."

"You wouldn't be wrong," said a voice behind them and Harry jumped, spinning around to face the owner. He was surprised to find a group of eight men, seven dressed in armour exactly as the article had said, the last dressed in a long cloak, hood pulled up to obscure his face. Wrapped around the eighth man's shoulders was a golden dragon about the size of a large cat, its steely golden eyes fixed on him. Bill whipped his wand out but the man who had spoken raised a hand and shook his head. "We're not here to harm you."

Harry took a good long look at this newcomer. He was tall and well built, muscles clear under the shifting chainmail, although nothing to the size of a much taller man behind him whose mail was stretched across a broad chest and held no sleeves, leaving ripped arms bare. The leader, because that was clearly what he was, was blonde, with clear blue eyes and stood as if he demanded your attention. His chainmail gleamed in the sunlight and hanging at his side was a sword that was both wickedly sharp and beautiful at the same time, with runes etched into the golden band that stopped a third of the way down the blade.

"Who are you?" Bill snapped, not lowering his wand. What little good it would do him Harry didn't know. It took a lot of effort nowadays to even create a stunning spell strong enough to, well, stun a person.

"I told you when we last met, I am King Arthur Pendragon of Camelot. These are my knights," the man stated gesturing behind him. There was a soft cough from under the cloak and Harry thought that Arthur rolled his eyes for a moment. "And Merlin."

So these were the knights of the paper. But the paper had been dated to only a couple of days before and they were as far from London as they had been able to get, practically on top of Tintagel castle. There was no way they had managed to travel so far without magic in a few days. Harry found his eyes resting on the cloaked man, wondering who he really was. After all, not many people would try to pull off _the_ Merlin, even if said person decided that dragons were the fashion statement of the day.

"So you're sticking with that story then?" Bill asked, lowering his wand slightly. One of the knights raised an eyebrow before speaking.

"You lot think that the princess is making this up?" Harry, Ginny, Ron, Hermione and Bill all stared at him as he smirked back at them. Arthur rolled his eyes stated, "Merlin," and the knight then found himself being smacked round the back of his head with a tree branch. He yelped and turned to the cloaked man.

"What happened to being friends?" he asked, although he didn't sound mad. Just playful.

"Now isn't the time for jokes Gwaine, however entertaining it is to see their faces," the man said in a voice that was surprisingly young. He then reached up and tugged the hood of the cloak down to reveal the face of a man in his late twenties, with dark hair, pale skin and ears that were just big enough that had his hair been shorter would have looked comical. Even so, his hair was brushing the nape of his neck, although it looked as if it had been recently cut. It was his eyes, however, that caught Harry's attention. They were a brilliant gold, burning as bright as two stars within a face that seemed far too young for them. "This isn't getting us anywhere," he stated, sharing a meaningful glance with Arthur, who nodded and gestured towards the rest of them.

"Gwaine, Leon, Percival, round up some volunteers to stand guard. Lancelot and Elyan, see what the supplies are here and if necessary help them find and gather more. Winter approaches faster than these people realise and I don't want repeats of last Winter," he stated and the knights peeled off, one by one. The final one left was the youngest, a boy who looked barely nineteen and seemed unsure of himself. It was Merlin who took the boy by the shoulder and stated,

"We need firewood. Take Rihtwíse with you. She enjoys hunting," he said as the little dragon suddenly took flight- or at least attempted to, it looked as if she hadn't quite gotten the hang of it just right then. The younger knight looked relieved, nodded and walked off, allowing the dragon to land upon his own shoulders, heading towards the surrounding landscape. There weren't many woods in this part of the country, but most of the people in Cornwall were friendly and it was well known amongst those fleeing that to head South West was your best bet at living. Arthur then returned his attention to them.

"Now that that's out of the way, to the real business." He turned and sat down by their own burnt out fire. The New Druids had been careful when handing out resources, but their own resources were stretched few and far between so they had been forced to settle with firewood rather than one of the burners that the New Druids sometimes had available, however the fuel was running short on them. Merlin had gone to sit next to Arthur and, after glancing at each other, they crowded the campfire themselves, sitting opposite him. For a moment they just stared at each other before Bill broke the silence.

"Where did you go? We looked all over for you when we could but you just disappeared," he asked, his eyes narrow, trying to seek out the answer. Arthur merely unbuckled the sheath his sword was hanging in and laid it across his lap, glancing over it carefully before looking up.

"I went home," he said simply. "But it doesn't matter where I went. What does matter is what happens now." He was looking at them all seriously. "And that includes working with those of non-magical origin."

"The government don't want us," Hermione said quietly. "They want to end us once and for all. It's like the medieval era all over again."

"I lived through that," Merlin said, equally as quietly. "I know many people who lived through the crisis and survived. It's not about surviving on your own. It's about knowing how to convince people of your intentions. Cutting yourselves off was a mistake from the start." Hermione frowned and Bill shook his head.

"I don't think it was. Look at what's happened. It just proves that the Statute of Secrecy was correct in believing that Muggles couldn't handle the knowledge of the magical world."

"Is that why you persecuted them?" Merlin snapped, his golden eyes blazing suddenly. "Is that why you wanted anyone with an ounce of sense locked away?" Arthur shot Merlin a sideways glance, and for a moment Harry thought that he was going to say something, to rein his friend in, but his eyes were hard when he turned back to Bill, who was looking confused.

"No, we didn't persecute them. We tried to _protect_ them. From _themselves_." Merlin was shaking his head and Arthur looked mildly insulted.

"Do I look like I need protecting from myself?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Do these people who are helping you now look as if they need help?"

"Well no-"

"Then don't speak of things you know nothing about." Bill closed his mouth at the harsh words. Harry wondered what exactly he had against Bill, or any of them really. There seemed to be some kind of anger, some resentment buried beneath both of them, as if there was something that they both knew that none of them were privy to, something dark. There was a moment of silence before Merlin sighed.

"This isn't getting us anywhere. Why don't we explain about the wards and why we're really here?" he suggested, glancing towards Arthur who nodded.

"You know what happened to the wards?" Bill asked, looking suspicious.

"Of course I do. I was the one who tore them down." Harry stared at the man before him. How on earth had he managed to rip through centuries of spell-work by some of the greatest wizards in history in nothing more than a day? Bill seemed to be wondering the same thing as he pulled his wand out again.

"Why would you do that?"

"Because you hurt the Triple Goddess. Because she wanted vengeance and nothing can be gained without pain. Because sometimes you need to burn everything to the ground before you can rebuild." Merlin paused, looking at their confused faces before seeming to resign himself to having to explain this phenomenon. "Eight hundred years ago, four wizards decided to take it upon themselves to protect their people from outsiders. Anyone who would speak out against them, anyone who wanted there to be peace between the magical and non-magical communities were eliminated and, unfortunately for you, most of those who spoke out were Druids or followers of the Triple Goddess, the true source of all magic. They branded these people as traitors and rooted them out, dragging whole families from their homes and having the non-magical folk send them to their pyres. And then, they decided to come after me." There was a great pain behind Merlin's eyes, a pain that spoke of suffering and silence and torment, a pain that could never be healed no matter how long he lived.

"The four came to find me at night when Aithusa laid her eggs. They dragged us away, imprisoning us beneath what would become their most famous landmark other than their school, in the structure you knew as Gringotts bank." Bill gasped and dropped his wand.

"Those chains… that was _you_?" he asked. "But they were old."

"Almost eight hundred years old, I know. That was the point. Unfortunately for your Founders, what would have killed an ordinary man failed to kill me." Merlin was looking directly at Bill but Hermione looked horrified.

"You don't mean the original Founders? S-Surely not the Hogwarts founders?" she gasped, stuttering slightly. She didn't look as if she could believe that they were capable of something so awful. Harry felt that he could share the sentiment. It was hard to believe that they would have done something like this, other than perhaps Slytherin.

"Yes, I mean the four idiots that decided to open a school of all things in such turbulent times," Merlin said, rolling his eyes. "The only one I found I could tolerate was Slytherin, but even he struggled to understand my way of looking at things."

"Yes, Merlin, but your way of looking at things is like trying to figure out the mystery of life," Arthur said, a faint smile on his lips. Merlin rolled his eyes again, sending him a smile in return.

"_You_ got on with Muggle hating Slytherin?" Ron spluttered in clear disbelief. Merlin scowled once again.

"Slytherin didn't hate the non-magical community, nor those from non-magical families. He was wary of them at the very least and frightened of them at the worst. And he had every right to be," Merlin added darkly, eyebrows drawn together. "Many children from these families only ever attended the school in order to lure their new so called 'friends' out into the arms of a mob or to bring a mob to the school. Many magical communities were wiped out that way, including the deaths of both of Slytherin's children." His eyes were sad as he looked into the fire. "His daughter was five years old when his former apprentice dragged her from her bed and threw her into the flames." Harry felt sick at the thought of a tiny girl screaming into the night as she was killed for what she had been born with. No wonder the man had hidden a basilisk within the Chamber of Secrets. He had probably been afraid that it would happen again to those he knew. But then…

"If Slytherin's children were killed, how could Voldemort be descended from him?"

"He wasn't," Merlin said simply. "He was actually related to Salazar's sister, Silena."

"Slytherin had a sister?" Hermione looked slightly perplexed. Merlin raised an eyebrow.

"Was he not allowed to have a family? The way you paint people nowadays," Merlin shook his head. "It's like living under Uther Pendragon again."

"Thanks Merlin, I wasn't aware that things were _so_ hard for everybody." Arthur's voice was full of sarcasm and he rolled his eyes. Merlin frowned at him.

"Not helping Arthur," he snapped. "Besides, you should know better than anyone how unaccommodating Uther was concerning the laws." Arthur opened his mouth but then closed it with a sigh.

"Right. Sorry," he murmured. "Forget I said anything." Harry got the feeling that this had been a common argument recently but he was amazed at how easily they had each forgiven each other. It was almost instantaneous. Nowadays people would argue for days and then spend the rest of their lives in resentment of the other person.

"To be honest, I would say that this Anthony Head may even be a reincarnation of Uther. He certainly has his hatred," Merlin mused, seeming to be thinking out loud. Harry just stared as Arthur glanced towards his friend.

"Looked like him too." Harry thought that Arthur shuddered but it was hard to tell in the failing light. He seemed to notice this too and glanced up at the sky. "I'll go and see to Mordred, see if he's found any wood we can use for the camp fires. Otherwise…" Merlin just nodded in agreement to whatever it was and snapped his fingers over the dying embers of their campfire. It suddenly burst into golden flames and the heat was wonderful. Despite their own efforts, nights were usually cold and uncomfortable. He glanced around to see the other knights wandering through the camp handing out blankets and food with the New Druids. One of them, a girl Harry knew only as Kara, wandered over with a large cooking pot and several bowls.

"Up for some vegetable soup?" she asked, her smile brilliant. Her eyes were a warm honey brown, flecked with gold and ivy was twisted into her hair. Merlin raised an eyebrow at her but accepted a bowl. She then settled down and ladled out seven bowls but keeping two on the side with some spare soup left in the pot. Then she turned to the side and said, "By the way, mother says hello."

"I'm sure she does," Merlin said, a mysterious smile on his face. "How are the fey?" Hermione gasped and Ron's mouth fell open, drops of soup falling out. Harry would have been disgusted if he hadn't been so shocked.

"You're a…?" he stammered. Kara looked at them all a little confused.

"A fey? Of course. I would have thought that wizards would recognise Mab's daughter when you saw her." She then paused and tilted her head. "Then again, you were never very perceptive in the first place."

"Hey!" Ginny protested. "That's not exactly fair! We were taught that the fey* kept to themselves in the magical forests."

"Usually," she said. "But with the reveal of the magical world and the return of the Old Religion, we've decided to help Emrys and his friends protect our people. _All_ of our people." Her eyes were hard at the last statement, her eyes once more on Bill. "Although I should warn you that many have not so easily forgiven the Latin wizards or their misdeeds. Namely imprisoning Emrys and tearing our world apart. They believe that it is only right that you too should suffer." Harry gulped, hoping that they didn't run into any of those people. Hermione was frowning though.

"How do we know that none of this is fake? How do we know that _he_ really is the real Merlin?" she asked suddenly. It was the first time that anyone had voiced this concern, and Harry had to admit that all of this was rather outlandish. Then again, they were sitting here around a campfire, on the run from Muggles of all people, and talking to the supposed daughter of Queen Mab of the fey. Kara just looked at her blankly as if thinking 'are you dense?' but Merlin just cocked his head to the side considering the question.

"How do you feel?" he asked quietly. Hermione stared at him, probably wondering the same thing as Harry; whether or not this man was mad. How did it matter how they felt? It was probably pretty clear how they felt. Tired and cold and miserable. They had nothing left that they could start from and there was no way out of this dark hole that they had dug themselves into. But as Harry really thought about it, he realised that there did seem something off. Something dim and bright and hopeful and growing every single day and he felt it more and more with the New Druids, even if it _was_ at the back of his mind. But Hermione didn't say any of this. Instead she just stared at him a while before Ron answered.

"Cold and tired," he snapped. Harry glanced around at the others. The only other person to look as if she had any other inkling of what Harry could feel was Ginny, who just shrugged when Harry met her eyes. Bill looked slightly taken aback and Hermione looked as if she were wondering what the right answer was, like it was a test. She finally shrugged.

"Same as Ron I guess. I don't see how the question is relevant," she snapped. Harry wondered how much she had dissected the question in order to come up with that. Merlin didn't say anything looking around at himself Bill and Ginny. It was Bill who answered first.

"I feel the same as Ron and Hermione but I also know that there are some aspects to magic that only very few wizards have access to. Some parts of magic that are available to Muggles and Squibs as well as us. If I can't feel anything that doesn't mean that no one else can. Maybe there's something to this Old Religion returning that others can feel?" He glanced across at Harry and Ginny who again exchanged glances. How on earth were they going to answer this question? Finally Ginny nudged him as if to say 'you're probably better at explaining the weird stuff than me'.

"Well, it's not that we don't feel cold and tired but it's like there's something else at the back of my mind… Something kind of hopeful," he frowned, trying to explain it and shook his head. "I don't know how to explain it but it feels like it's getting stronger every day." Ginny nodded.

"Like there's this tiny ray of hope at the back of your head saying that not everything is lost just yet." Merlin gave them both a smile, nodding his head and turning back to Hermione.

"Does that answer your question? Whether or not I am Merlin, there are signs that the Old Religion is returning. The loss of Latin magic is a start and the return of magical creatures long since lost. Just because you can't feel it, doesn't mean it's not there." He frowned at Hermione then and almost off-handedly stated, "it would also help if you were slightly more open-minded. Not everything can be found in a book you know and half if it's wrong anyway." Hermione opened her mouth to argue but at that moment Arthur returned with the young knight from before and the golden dragon who instantly flew down onto Merlin's lap.

"Mamma's coming! Mamma's coming!" the dragon squealed and Harry dropped his bowl in shock. Of everything that had just happened, this was the strangest. Merlin just laughed as he fished some wrapped meat from his bag and dumped it on the floor for the dragon.

"I know. I told her to meet us here with the others." He turned to face Arthur and the new arrival, both of whom had just accepted bowls of soup from Kara who smiled, rose from her seat and picked up the pot and finished bowls before disappearing off into the crowd. Harry tried to notice others like her and noted that there were another three with ivy wrapped around their arms or legs and the same pixie like features. It could mean that they had just picked up her style, but he didn't think it was that likely. "How is everyone getting along?"

"There's enough food to last for now. But they'll need extra supplies before winter really sets in, or they'll have to move. I suggested to them that it would be better if they found a cave or somewhere similar that wouldn't be filled with water when the tide comes in. That way they can conserve heat. A couple of fey volunteered to go scout one out and a few others of the New Druids have gone to request food where they can." Arthur looked worried though. "I still don't think it's enough. These people need a place to live, not hide continually. It would help if there was a castle or building that could fit people inside but everywhere big enough round here is ruined and any further east or north is hostile." The young knight looked up at that and Harry wondered if he was going to speak, especially when the pair turned to look at him. He paused in eating, setting the spoon carefully to the side before opening his mouth to speak.

"My people used to spend many nights searching for the right place to live. Perhaps if these people were willing to move to a more sheltered area, forested preferably, they would have enough supplies in order to survive until real shelter for them can be found? But they would need to be taught how to live in the wild as they waste much of what they could be using to keep warm or to feed themselves." He said this all very quietly but Arthur and Merlin both nodded.

"That's a good point Mordred. The caves can only go so far but if these people could move somewhere less open…" Arthur mused out loud, his eyes suddenly bright. Harry got the feeling he was usually like this when planning something and wouldn't top until it was carried through. He glanced at Merlin who nodded again.

"Teach them how to survive first before moving anywhere. I can try to communicate with the fey or some others to see what they can find for proper shelter for those who cannot survive in the wild," Merlin said.

"What about Hogwarts? I know it's not magical anymore but it's still a castle," Bill asked cautiously, as if wondering whether he could get into the conversation. Merlin shook his head but it was Arthur who answered.

"It's too far away, still in partial ruins and a known location for wizards. Trust me, people already thought of that and it didn't end well." He looked unusually solemn at that and Merlin turned away.

"You can't save everyone," Mordred murmured into his bowl as if not wanting to be heard. "No matter how hard you try." Arthur glanced at him sharply but Merlin just shook his head at Arthur. There was a sadness in his eyes that he could relate to. Just thinking back on the past few months and years: if he could have saved Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Dumbledore or even Snape he would have. But he hadn't through no fault of his own- most of the time they had gotten into danger through their own actions and choices to help him. There was a long drawn out silence after that as the pair finished their dinner and the camp began to settle for the night. But just as they were laying out their blankets under the starry sky and hoping that it wouldn't rain halfway through the night, there came an odd noise from above them. At first it sounded like displaced air, then the sound of beating wings- three sets as if to mock the fact that they were now in trouble from not one but _three_ flying creatures with no way to stop them. Harry pushed himself up and had just about pushed his glasses onto the end of his nose as three varying shapes drifted down to land at the edge of camp to meet a dark silhouette against the countryside. The sea crashed in the distance against the rocks, and Harry noted, for some absurd reason, that it must be high tide.

He glanced around at the others. Darkness had well and truly fallen now. The camp fires had been allowed to flicker out to embers, despite the fact that they should have done that hours ago, and most people were asleep. But a pair of green eyes was watching him over Ron's back and Harry nodded. He and Ginny slipped out of the bags, noting that the knights too were approaching the far off figure that Harry guessed could only be Merlin. He speaking quietly to one of the creatures and a small silhouette was bouncing around, playing with another, larger, shadow. For a moment, Harry wondered what was going on but then remembered the baby dragon from earlier and it's exclamation that 'Mamma's coming!' He supposed that this was its family. He was almost there when the dragon in front of Merlin reared back suddenly, growling.

"I smell wizards," it hissed in a female voice, venom dripping from every word. Taken aback, Harry _almost_ turned back, afraid that this dragon might just decide to eat him, but then he noted something familiar about it. Creeping closer, it took almost a solid minute to realise where he had seen her before.

"You're the dragon who helped us escape from Gringotts!" It was probably not the right thing to say as the dragon's head came closer and he was inspected by a huge red eye. Then she drew her head back sniffing.

"And you are one of the younglings who helped me escape. For that, you may live." This was said almost reluctantly and before Harry could answer, a hand was laid on his back and he turned around to see Merlin.

"What are you doing here Harry?" he asked quietly. The golden dragon was draped once more around his shoulders, its golden eyes so eerily similar to Merlin's that Harry might have mistaken them for the same being if he didn't already know that they were separate.

"I was woken up by their arrival. What are you doing?" A sudden thought struck Harry as he glanced at Merlin once more. He noted that he was once again wearing the travelling cloak and that he wasn't alone in being awake. The knights were moving about under the cover of darkness, preparing something or other.

"You're leaving us again, aren't you?" Ginny stated, sounding as if she were on the verge of tears. Merlin merely sighed and glanced behind him to the white dragon, as if contemplating something.

"Not all of us. The Triple Goddess has played her part in revealing magic, _true_ magic, to the world and now it is up to us how we react to that. Spume have made their views clear, while others are still undecided, but it is our work to ensure the safety of _everyone_, not just those we care about. I'm sure you understand," Merlin said, glancing at Harry for the last part. "Sir Mordred, Sir Gwaine and Anthuil will be staying here with you, helping you to move to a safer area. Kara and her brethren too. The rest of us have to move on and so will they once you are ready."

"Ready for what?" Harry asked. The dragon behind Merlin snorted her distaste.

"They are as blind as their Founders," she growled. "Even worse than I during the War of Camelot."

"No Aithusa," Merlin murmured. "They are just young, as you once were. And the young, as they say, are those who will pave the way for a new world. Or in this case, an older one."

"I always thought that going backwards was counterproductive," Ginny said, looking confused. Merlin laughed lightly at that as another dragon swept down to join them. This one was a darker colour to both the white dragon- Aithusa- and the tiny baby golden dragon wrapped around Merlin's neck, which squealed in delight and jumped onto its sibling's back.

"The soldiers are drawing in from the north. They'll be here soon unless we stop them," it growled, its gruff voice marking it as a younger male. Merlin merely nodded.

"Thank you Tӕlfon." Merlin then turned back to them, his face serious, eyes older than Harry thought possible. "I'm afraid we have to go now. But we will meet again one day. Ginny…" he paused and then smiled softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "In answer to your question, yes, most of the time going backwards rather than forwards _is _counterproductive, but in certain situations, such as these, going backwards will help lead the way forwards. Take History as a lesson in life and remember the mistakes that your forebears made so as not to make them this time around. I'm sure many young and flourishing sorcerers such as you and Harry will heed my advice. For now however, listen to Mordred and Kara, listen to the advice given to you by magic itself and never give in to despair. The world will right itself once more, you'll see."

And with those words Merlin was up on Aithusa and gone. The knights were also leaving, some mounting Tӕlfon, others mounting horse that may have been hidden in the undergrowth. Only two remained on the ground, outlined by the light of the moon as they watched their comrades leave.

"Don't worry, they have yet to fail in battle," Gwaine said as he approached them, unusually serious. Mordred nodded.

"Come, there is much to learn and so little time…" He gestured to a campfire set up in the centre, one that Harry had paid little attention to until now. It was so much larger than the others, almost a pyre rather than a cooking fire, and set up around it was tables and chairs, all fashioned from wood that looked as if it had grown into that shape naturally rather than carved. The tables were set with all manner of things, ranching from food, to amulets, to books and dancing around the campfire was all manner of people and creatures. Harry spotted all of the New Druids, some able to produce small balls of light and have them dance over their friends heads, while they were joined in song by the magical counterparts. He saw Kara, who had shed her robes in favour of clothes made from leaves, translucent wings that shone like a dragonfly's fluttering behind her. Blue lights shot around the people's heads and goblins danced to their own tribal music, getting under people's feet and pinching gold from the refugees bags if they were able to find it, only to have it promptly taken away from them by a tern Druid, or fey, or even one of the blue lights which Harry now realised were small pixie like creatures he had never heard of before. Bowtruckles were running between their feet away from the flames and actual pixies seemed to sprout from nowhere.

For once, Harry felt glad that the world had changed. If it had simply reverted to normal, as easier as that may have been, none of this would have been possible. Kara would have kept herself hidden away, these people would have been looked down on by society, the wizards would have continued their crusade against the M- non-magical folk without ever realising it was wrong. He turned to find that Ginny too was smiling through her tears and he wondered if Sirius and Remus and Tonks or even his own parents were watching this scene with the same awe that he was. For a moment he thought he saw a glimpse of them, ghostly white and pale, but then the moment was gone.

"Mordred," Ginny murmured. "Why did people have to die for this?" It was said quietly, marring the tone of the celebrations slightly, but Harry knew that it was a question that needed answering.

"Because the world needed justice for all the wrong done in the last thousand years," he said quietly. Harry looked at him confused.

"How did any of this count as justice?" he asked, aghast at such a statement. Mordred looked at him, and for a moment he looked older than he actually was- or maybe he simply looked his age.

"Nothing can be won without pain. Our people had a saying- 'justice cannot be served without the suffering of others'. It was our mandate to protect those affected from that suffering, to help them when they needed a guiding light. The Triple Goddess is harsh when it comes to her laws, cross her and your fate is sealed. But she is also benevolent, another of her three sides like the three phases of the moon. She will keep us safe." Harry wondered how much he believed of that, but there was something that rang true and he decided, for today not to question it.

Tomorrow was a new day and he intended to use it to the full.

* * *

***I use the word fey rather the fairies because that's just me.**

**Sorry for the rather depressing tone of this last part, and the fact that nothing actually happens in it other than explaining, but hopefully it's not too bad :) Please leave a nice review if you want, or not, it's your choice. Thanks!**


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